


Play

by wintersnight



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: All the puns, Chat Noir's ears are his weakness, F/M, Identity Porn, Kinky Sex Games, NSFW, Smut and Fluff, all manner of suit abuse and debauchery, because why not, only it really isn't, sin bin, thanks for not judging me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 14:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13250061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersnight/pseuds/wintersnight
Summary: When he gets a message to stay in for the evening, he has no idea it's because a certain spotted super heroine is coming to see him.But, two can play at this game.





	Play

**Author's Note:**

> This is VERY different from my usual. I speak DC Comics with a special place in my heart for a certain Third Robin who kicks ass, takes names, and breaks down space/time fuckery like a champ. So, vigilantes and I go way back XD But, these two just snagged my attention somehow, so *gestures* now for something a little different. If you're here to watch Marinette and Adrien be adorable, witty, and completely lost over each other, then you're in the right place.  
> A special thanks to my babe, Titans_R_Us for giving me the encouragement to post even if it's not my usual.

It had been a long, tiring day for one Adrien Agreste.

Morning classes at the university, work in the afternoon, and his evenings usually somewhat  _occupied_ , his schedule is just as hectic as it had been, back when he’d finally broken the hell  _out_  of that house and started going  _out_  into the real world.

He closes the door to his loft and falls against it, sighing, lets his head thunk back. It’s a long moment of  _ease_ , letting the tension from his shoulders finally drop little by little. Managing his career on his own is a job in itself, taking into account the coursework and classes (not to mention the little  _side gig_ , one complete with a sharp, leather catsuit, and the ears a certain spotted  _belle femme_  cannot help but to resist), it’s not often he gets a night off.

LB messaged him to stay in, enjoy the down-time. Her  _treat yourself with a visit to the groomers, Chat_ , made him smile inappropriately during the negotiations for a clothing line out of Hong Kong.

But since he suddenly has  _time_ , the possibilities are a slideshow of consideration while he moves down the hall, steps echoing faintly on the solid wood flooring. The touches of warmth are in the form of pictures running over every available surface from the hall to the open living space.

It’s in the gaming controllers still out from that last binge with Nino, the bottle of wine making them both sloppy and more competitive than usual. (After an appropriate amount of whining from both sides, they called a drawl, and started on the next bottle.)

It’s in Alya’s video channel queued up on his big screen, and the neat stacks of magazines on the end table full of her articles. (The last time she’d been over, he’d been hanging off the roof by his tail, peering at her through the window to  _again_  emphasize  _stay put_  and  _stop getting in trouble_ , for all the good it would do).

It’s in the scarf over his door Marinette made for the oncoming fall, one she’d hopelessly put around him, smirking while at the same time admonishing him for being out in just a jacket against the cold (and how would he pay for such a thing,  _Purrincess?_   _You’ll think of something, I’m sure, Minou. You have quite…an imagination_. Yes, he still grins like an idiot when he thinks about  _that_  night. Yes, his lower abdomen gets tight whenever he thinks about how amazing she was all laid  _out_  for him).

Honestly, he’d be lost without them all.

Flopping down on his couch to lay back, he wonders if he should end up calling Nino, maybe go out for a drink. Or, it could be a Netflix and chill with Alya while they both crash their diets and kill a few pints. But his foremost thoughts  _stray_  a little when his eyes open enough to fall on the scarf once again.

Ah, but apparently his Princess is busy tonight.

He sighs again, thinking maybe he’d just do a little more studying and watch television, sits up to start unbuttoning his shirt—

When there’s a tap on the window.

With a start, Adrien is on his feet, moving to peer out into the softly glowing night. The tap directs his eyes  _up_  and the beautiful heroine of the city is dangling upside down with a stunning ease, and smiles beatifically down at him.

His hands are already moving to open the window, his heart picking up slightly, his mouth already curving into a grin.

“ _Monsieur Agreste?_ Adrien Agreste?”

He blanks for just a moment, blinking up at Ladybug, struck as he always is at nearly everything about her.

“Yes…” he breathes out in awe, and finally seems to gather himself a little, “Yes! I am Adrien Agreste. Won’t you…won’t you come in, Ladybug?” He steps back from the window, gestures in welcome.

She’s power and grace, grown in the five years she’s been the better half of Paris’ superhero duo, and the soft smile he has for her makes the pink in her cheeks from the wind even darker.

“I am sorry to trouble you tonight,” her voice carries over the walls, soft and firm, clear as glass.

“Has… there been a crime?” And other things are right there on the tip of his tongue, but the playfulness in her eyes is too hard to miss.

“No, no. Just a standard patrol, Monsieur Agreste. Thankfully, an easy night,” and her smile is soft for him, something shining in her eyes and the wrinkle of her nose under the mask.

“I’m glad to hear that,” and his eyes go curiously over her shoulder to the window, “but I don’t see your, ah,  _partner_  with you?”

And he can see her turn away, roll her lips so she doesn’t  _smile_. “Ah, well, Chat is… _in_ tonight. I’m on my own, which brings me to the reason I’m here.”

And the way her tone catches, her eyes fall half-mast, her posture straightens, the way her tongue swipes over her lower lip, all of it makes his chest tight with  _want_.

“Oh?” Is only  _slightly_  breathy, and he gives himself a mental pat on the back.

“I finally had the time to stop by to properly… _thank-you_ , Monsieur.”

“Please, just Adrien,” he manages to husk out, wondering how his lady is going to let this play this little  _game_. “I’m honored really, but what are you here to thank me for?”

It takes effort to keep his hands from reaching out automatically, from pulling her against him when she has that  _expression_ under the mask.

It takes effort, but he lets her make the first move.

And she does, steps close enough to take his hand without looking away from his eyes, “for trying to…help through the years. I don’t usually appreciate civilians getting in the middle of a fight, to put themselves in harm’s way for me. But  _you_  seem to have a propensity for it.”

He laughs a little, his eyes crinkling in mirth. “You remembered all those times?”

“I remembered,” she confirms, her voice low and sweet, her thumb swiping over his pulse point, lighting up the nerves there. “How could I forget the handsome young man making sure I didn’t get skewered by an akuma? Or that I wouldn’t know him years later, trying to stop a criminal who wanted to shoot me? Honestly, I should be worried for your sense of self-preservation.”

Her hand tightens, pulls him down enough that their faces are closer, close enough he can see how fathomless her eyes really are.

“But the point is,  _Adrien_ , that I’m finally here to show you my… appreciation. Better late than never, as they say.”

His mind goes fuzzy with how close she is, how good she smells, how much he  _loves, wants, needs_ , that all he can say in the game is, “Ladybug, please… _please_.”

Her Mona Lisa smile is the last nail in his coffin.

He follows when she tugs his wrist, backs him up until he flops back down on his couch, limbs akimbo, and quickly getting back into the play when she straddles his thighs, leans her body into him. She’s all curves and strength and utter  _perfection_ , her mouth turned up in that smile when she gives the smallest roll of her hips just to hear him gasp out.

The suit is smooth against him when she palms his face, tilts him up to meet her mouth easing down, just a gentle caress, something to give him a little preview.

“Is this…alright with you, Monsieur? If I simply—” and the wetness over his lower lip is torture, earns a groan when he opens for her kiss.

“You…are  _incredible_ ,” he moves with her, lets her turn him so her mouth can move over him, to the spot behind his ear, and down over his throat, “if any…if anyone deserve such appreciation, it’s  _you_.” His hands are helplessly drawn to the sweet curve of her hips, his thumbs making circles on the indents, hot just by knowing she was warm and soft underneath the suit.

The sharp edge of teeth on his jugular makes his hips jerk, brings him against her, makes his slacks more and more… _uncomfortable_.

“I…I have to confess,” he turns, tightens his grip just a little, just enough to get her half-mast eyes and her pink mouth back, “I’ve had…well, a bit of a crush on you for years. Who wouldn’t? Someone as fearless as you? Someone who defeated Hawk Moth and all his supervillains? Someone who saves the city over and over? You are truly something to behold, lady.” He licks his lips deliberately, arching up into her touch when her hands slide down to finish unbuttoning his shirt.

“Why, I’m flattered you would think so, Monsieur Agreste,” she purrs down, “if a man like you holds me in such high regard, then I must be doing something  _right_.”

His hands have to move, to slide up over her waist, her ribs, when she eases his shirt open, pulls him up against her just enough to slide it off his arms, fingers splaying over his bare skin until he shudders with it. He’s hot half-way down his chest where her eyes take him in, appreciates the heavy muscle, finds all the sensitive spots to watch his throat work as he swallows.

“What’s my name, lady?” He husks back, completely under her thrall.

Her smile becomes a smirk, her hands sliding back up his body, thumbs over his nipples so his back arches helplessly, so she can work him, wind him up  _tight_.

With some small mercy, she leans over him, licks her bottom lip before moaning out, “ _Adrien_.”

And her kiss is finally so  _much_ , the taste he  _craves_. It’s hot and wet and deep, it’s her mouth moving perfectly while she comes back for  _more_ , and it’s so hard to be pliant under her touch, to let her have complete control, to take exactly what she gives him.

The noises he makes are swallowed down, his hips starting to move unconsciously, and his hands slide up her body again, thumbs swiping under the curve of her breasts. He makes a choked noise when her hips move with him, making him throb against the zipper.

When she tears her mouth away, he tries to follow, tries to have  _more_. “M’La— ah,  _Ladybug_ , let me—”

Because he’s desperate to touch her, to feel her under his hands and mouth.

“I’m afraid the suit can’t come off,” but her voice is deeper, low with arousal, a hint of the  _tease_ , playing her game, “but I fully intend to take advantage of you regardless.”

“That sounds monumentally  _unfair_ ,” he grinds out, head back against the soft cushions to bare more skin for her.

“Life of a superhero,” she smirks, “it’s not… _purrfect_. But I’d very much like to touch you,” and one hand slides between them, cups him through his pants, gives him enough friction to make him abruptly cry out with it instead of laugh at the pun. “I want to make you come for me, Adrien.”

And  _her?_  His lady,  _his_ , saying it just like that. “Yes, anything,” he moans out, “ _anything_  for you.”

She’s fast and efficient, moving off him, taking her warmth and her hands and mouth away long enough to lay him out so she can pin him under her softness, so her mouth can find the curve of bone while her hands flirt inside the waistband of his pants and tease the indents of his hips.

She sucks at him, bites just enough to make him  _throb_ , laughs low when the sensitive spot on his ribs makes his hands clench on whatever he can find.

He’s almost begging by the time she slides his pants and boxers down his legs, tosses them absently, makes room for herself between his thighs, and gets comfortable there.

“Oh  _God_ , Lady—!”

As the flat of her tongue licks from the base of him to the tip. She smiles smugly, winking at him while she does it.

And Adrien  _writhes_  under her, gasping and moaning out the waves of pleasure from her mouth and hands, from her teasing remarks and shameless flirting, from the strength holding his hips down and the texture of her fingers sliding up over him while her mouth never stops. It’s all he can do to fist his hands in the fabric under him, stare down at her while his chest shudders with caught breath.

He’s a goner, he’s  _done for_ —

When she takes him all the way down

And  _sucks_.

His helpless cry echoes and somehow his hands migrated down, holding on to her, trying to ground himself.

She makes all that effort useless, takes him down deep and works her throat around him. The soothing little circles her thumbs make on his hips barely register when he’s gasping, moaning out for her to have  _mercy_.

The indestructible suit under one hand gives only enough to fist in when she slides a hand down cup his balls and massage him, make that pressure in his belly wind-up even more.

And he’s so helpless, writhing under her, looking down over his body to see her taking him in effortlessly, her pretty pink mouth stretched around the width.

The sight makes him throb against her tongue, makes that tension tingle low.

“Lady-Ladybug, I'm…  _oh God,_ I’m going to-!”

Her eyes roll up, dark and half-lidded with lust—and she moans around him in her mouth, the vibrations against him unbearable.

It’s enough for the pressure to finally give way, for his body to arch in a smooth line of corded muscles and helpless pleasure. His hips work against her hand, chest stuttering while he cries out, almost a sob.

She works him down slowly, perfectly in tune with his body. The motion of her throat swallowing around him keeps the waves of pleasure moving down to the tips of his fingers, and her hand moves, slides to his shaky thigh to gently work the muscle.

And Adrien tries to get a full breath, panting like he’s run for  _miles_ , unable to look away for even a moment.

He makes another soft noise when she sucks on her way back up, to release him from her tight, warm mouth, and look up at his dazed eyes with that Mona Lisa  _smile_. She licks her lips, making it  _sinful_.

With the vestiges of his orgasm still tingling all over, he’s boneless and hazy, making her sigh down in appreciation.

Regretfully, Ladybug give one last kiss to his sated member and pulls out of his limp grasp to stand. She’s still smiling down at him, something warm and fond in her eyes while she flicks a blanket off the back of his couch over to cover his naked body.

“You could stay, Mademoiselle,” his voice is wrecked and hoarse, “I would be honored to take care of you.” And he reaches out an unsteady hand, almost pleading.

But the teasing light is back as she steps out of his reach.

“I… _appreciate_  the offer, Adrien. But you could find out who I am if I take the suit off.”

“I wouldn’t tell a soul.” He teases back lightly, looking up at her with soft, affectionate eyes.

“I am sure of that, but another time perhaps when I have an easy patrol.”

She strides back around the couch, hips swaying, her body outlined in the suit, the curve of her breast and smooth line of belly poetry in motion.

Her yo-yo is already in one hand when she pauses, leans back over the couch, her feet barely leaving the floor to place one last, chaste kiss on his mouth, pulling up and away before he can get coordinated enough to pull her down on top of him.

With a terribly satisfied smirk, she’s already up and looking back down at him lying there, her eyes taking him in from head to toe.

“And thank-you again, Monsieur Agreste. I had… A wonderful time tonight.”

He groans out loud when she winks at him, soft, rapid footfalls, the  _zing_  of her zip line, and she's—

_Gone._

Adrien manages to sit up, flop one arm over the couch to stare dreamily at the window where she vanished into the night.

_Stay in, Chat._

His mouth curves in a grin even as he plans because  _two_  can play at  _this_  game.

**

Dropping the transformation does absolutely  _nothing_  for her current state.

Feeding her poor, overworked kawami is little consolation for how her body is still on the edge of  _madness_ , her core giving the occasional throb.

Once her companion is sated on sweets and fast asleep, Marinette Dupain-Cheng tries to console herself by taking a hot shower and thinking over the way she’d completely taken her boyfriend apart as her alter ego. She washes her hair and body with complete, unmitigated  _satisfaction_.

The game was a win, and she’d gotten one up on her dorky, yet utterly adorable significant other-slash-crime fighting partner. She laughs smugly while she dries off and wraps a towel around herself. The ache between her legs hasn’t faded nearly enough to sleep, and she climbs the steps out into the hallway, pads barefoot to her bedroom with the thought of finishing herself off and watching a good comedy before she calls it a night.

She barely gets inside her bedroom, crossing over to her bureau for night clothes, when the soft noise from the bed makes her gasp and spin on her heels.

The sigh of leather and dark jade eyes, power and strength, heavy muscle stretched out on her bed. Chat Noir looks up to meet her eyes—

And  _purrs_.

“Oh!” She gasps to cover the  _completely_  understandable throb from between her legs at just the sight of him. “C-Chat Noir! I…ah, I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

When she’s absolutely breathless, her eyes sliding over him from ears to tail, it’s enough for Chat’s wide grin to glint  _white_ , to take her in for himself while he purposely arches his back to stick his chest and shoulders out. His grin only gets dirtier when her knees tremble just a  _little_.

“I’ve obviously picked the  _purrfect_  time to drop in, Marinette,” his voice drops low and sweet, a hint of the  _tease_. “Right after you’ve had a shower…that means you’re warm and  _wet_  for me, aren’t you?”

She doesn’t move from the bureau, can barely breathe with the picture he makes, with how much he makes her  _want_.

“Minou…Minou, I—” and she bites down on her lip when he braces both feet on the foot board and works his hips  _up_.

She doesn’t moan out loud, but it’s a  _close thing_.

“I bet you smell like fresh rain,” he continues in that tone, his eyes heavy with everything he plans to do to her, and since she seems caught up, he moves with sinuous grace, up on his feet to slink across the room. The movement of hips and swishing tail, of broad shoulders and narrow waist, of every muscle moving under all that leather.

She braces a hand on the dresser to keep herself standing while she watches every  _move_.

The low, vibrating purr is there before he even reaches her, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in  _anticipation_. “I bet you’re going to be so sweet under my mouth, aren’t you,  _Purrincess_?”

Clenching the towel ends to the side of her breast like a lifeline, Marinette is utterly  _incapable_  of saying anything other than, “please, Chat, mon  _dieu_ , please.”

And sometimes…sometimes she  _forgets_  how fast he can be, how he can blend in the shadows and seem to skim over the floor on light feet.

But her gasp is the only thing between them when he’s suddenly  _there_ , picking her up by the back of the thighs easily to press her against the front of his body, to spread her around his hips so she could feel how hard and ready he is just by looking at her in a  _towel_ of all things.

She helpless against him, against the touch of his mouth on her throat, his chest rumbling against her breasts, his hips working slowly against her.

A useless string of something spills out of her in pointless babble, her thighs trembling, tightening around his hips when he nips at her jugular, licks his way back up.

“ _God_  what you do to me, Marinette,” is low and desperate, Chat finally pulling back enough so she can see the heat in those eyes outlined by the mask.

“Show me,” she gasps out, running her hands down the heavy muscle of his back and shoulders. “Show me what I  _do_  to you,  _Minou_. Take me to bed.”

If anything, he purrs even louder, leans in to groan against her throat and give just the edge of teeth, sending a shock up her spine.

“Whatever my  _Purrrincess_  wants, she gets,” is low and terribly teasing, and she can feel the smirk against her jugular.

A huff of a laugh and she threads her fingers up in his hair, pulls him away from the mark he’s making at the base of her throat to bring her mouth to his.

And Chat’s hands tighten on her, his mouth hot and wet and addictive. He takes control, keeps her desperate for  _more_. The moan spilling out of her is enough to get him moving, to turn them and stride across the room with heavy footfalls. He mouth can’t stop tasting her even while he’s lowering her down, running his hands carefully up to her hips to grip and pull her where he  _wants_  her.

The flimsy yet resilient towel stubbornly clings to her softness, but the knot by her breast doesn’t survive his teeth so he can mouth lazily at the curve of her, work his way closer to the sweet nipples tightening under his attention. He laps at her slow and sensual, licking at her like  _cream_.

Her back arches instinctually, one hand desperately fisting in the coverlet under her, the other buried in his tousled hair.

Her core is throbbing and wet with  _pleaseneedmore_  when a bare hand, the ringless one, slides over her trembling thigh and  _up_.

“Oh,” is barely anything but a moan when he find her wet and so  _ready_ , “so turned on, Princess? All for me?” The utter  _satisfaction_  is there, knowing what he does to her, how she writhes under him so sweetly, how he can make her lose herself in pleasure. He licks a line from her belly button up, the bell attached to his collar another sweeping touch over her bare body.

“Y-Yes,” she manages when he latches on to her other breast, “i-it…I can’t  _help_  it. You’re practically walking  _sin_  in that suit, Chat!”

She gets a hard, appreciative suck while his tongue does  _incredible_ things. Just the slightest pressure, just his finger barely easing inside, a tease so he can gather up wetness to slide over her, to lightly touch her clit with barely-there circles. Her hips jump helplessly, try to work into his fingers.

Finally pulling off, his smirk is dark and dirty, eyes half-mast behind the mask. The motion of his tail moving back and forth in satisfaction, a shadow against the wall while the hard muscle of his thighs ease her open for his touch.

“Why Marinette Dupain-Cheng, have you been,  _gasp_ , looking at my ass in this suit? I am completely a- _paw-_ ed.”

A little bit of  _luck_  must have rubbed off on him because he has her pulled to the edge of the bed where there’s nothing within easy reach to hit him with.

 _Dammit_. Him and his terrible  _puns_.

She gets an annoyed groan out before his fingers firm on that sensitive spot and make her gasp instead.

“You are…the  _worst_ , I swear,” but she’s breathless about it, “I need to stop leaving my window open for  _strays_.”

He grins up from her chest unabashedly, giving her a wink before he’s finally done teasing (for the moment) and drops over the side of the bed to kneel between her sweet thighs.

“You  _wound me_ , Princess,” his mouth drags over her inner thigh, lapping at her with a groan, “calling me a  _stray_  when your sweet cream is what keeps me coming  _back_.”

She moves with him even if the terrible pun makes her throw both hands up to her face so she’s not actually laughing to encourage him. Honestly, he could go on. For hours.  _Hours_.

“You make me the best kind of crazy, Chat Noir. Have I told you that recently?”

And from between her spread thighs, his eyes draw up her body, flushed and sensitive from his touch, marked as  _his_.

“I could always stand to hear it again, Princess,” and he leans in to tease her, to talk against her most sensitive skin. “I  _like_  when you say the nice things about me.  _Oh, Chat is such a purr-fect boyfriend. Chat Noir? Yes, he is incredibly sexy in that suit._ ”

She laughs down at him while the tingles race up her spine, “Ch-Chat Noir? Why yes, he— _oh_ ,  _oh!_  he makes—he makes me…come so  _hard_ sometimes I forget my own  _name_.”

He has to turn into her thigh to snicker, the tip of his ear, fluttering over her.

“People think he’s the force of  _destruction_ ,” she chorts through her fingers, “it’s so much more than they realize.”

“Ah, I  _see_ ,” and his tone drops again, that sweet, dark  _promise_ , “that’s a  _challenge_ , isn’t it, Marinette? I absolutely  _accept_.”

She can do nothing more than shout with the feel of his tongue and mouth, the purr from his chest vibrating through her, winding her up so  _tight_  so  _fast_. It’s terrible that she  _knows_  he’s smiling while his tongue circles her sensitive spot, works her  _over_  and over. He glides down to fuck into her just enough to make her shudder.

The only thing left is to cling to the back of his neck while his tail wraps around her calf thrown over his shoulder, helping ground her from the furious throbbing in her core, the tension building in her belly.

“Chat!  _Chat!_ ” Her hips undulate helplessly in his hands.

He moans into her in reply, grips her, pulls her further into his  _mouth_.

“You’re…you’re trying to kill me, Minou!” Is almost sobbed out when he licks back up, to mouth at her there again and suck lightly.

Bare fingers slide against her again, press gently against her entrance, and she manages a gasp before he’s sliding inside, working her so perfectly in rhythm with his lips and tongue. Her thighs tremble against his chest, her hips trying to move with him helplessly.

Her hands slides up from the back of his neck to his messy hair until she finds a soft ear—

And her fingernails scratch  _lightly_  at the base.

The effect is immediate.

Chat presses up into touch, tearing his mouth away from her when the bolt of pleasure shoots through him.

She has  _no qualms_  slightly cheating here, not with how he swaggers around in that suit and flirts with her outrageously in  _and_  out of her mask. She bites down on her lower lip when his fingers don’t stop moving, pressing up into her, finding that spot inside to make her shudder again. Her fingernails scratch, slightly harder when the sensitive appendage twitches, and her Minou lays his forehead on her belly to purr.

Even when she gasps at a hard thrust, she’s grinning in  _victory_.

“Mari _nette_ ,” is so much  _warning_  when he realizes what she’s trying to do, “you’re  _cheating_.” And he leans up so she can see his eyes narrow behind the mask, can feel the little admonishing tug at her calf.

“I need  _more_ , Minou!” She tries to bat innocent eyes down at him, but the effect is completely ruined when his fingers speed up again and leave her breathless. “Please,  _please_ , I want to feel you.”

He leans down to nip at her thigh in mock-punishment, “but you’re so  _close_ , aren’t you, my pretty  _purrincess_? You’re getting tight for me, so  _wet_. I want you to come just like this.”

Biting down on her wrist really doesn’t help anything because he gets so focused when he has a goal in mind.

“Oh  _God, A—_  Ch-Chat.”

He smirks a little because  _so close_ ,  _almost got you Bugaboo_.

But as much as he  _loves_  to tease her, to feel her shake under him, to  _know_  he’s taking her apart so  _completely_ , he’s almost at his wits  _end_ , throbbing more and more with every shift of his hips working himself against the leather. He needs her, as in  _yesterday_.

His little foray with Ladybug didn’t sate him enough, and with her sweetness in his mouth and nose, her muscles trembling finely in his hands, he needs to drop his transformation and  _fuck her_  until they’re both utterly useless in satisfaction.

_But first._

He groans out loud at how she tightens down on his fingers, reading her body’s signals perfectly.

“So beautiful for me like this, Mari,  _God_ , it’s so hard just to look at you, knowing  _I’m_  the one who gets to do this to you, see you like this, make you feel so  _good_.”

“I! I  _can’t_ —” her eyes are wet with how  _close_ , how so very  _close_.

“You can, and you  _will_ ,” he leans down to lap at her again, to speed his fingers, to curve them up right where she needs it. “Come for me, Princess. Let go and  _come_  for me.”

Her body arches for him, playing into the dark demand, the cry pulled from her heaving chest, and his smirk is right there when he gives her the final thrusts to tip her over the edge.

“ _Adrien!”_  She sobs out, breath catching when her body finally explodes and the waves of pleasure throb through her, when he works her gently through it, running his mouth over the indent of her hip to lap at her lazily.

“Purr-fect for me, Mari,” his mouth gentles and his fingers slowly ease out of her, “you’re so fucking  _beautiful_  when you come.”

Trying to get her breath back and some strength in her arms, her eyes flutter open, “such a sweet-talker, Chat,” she manages and leans up on her elbows to look at the very satisfied kitty kneeling between her legs.

His hum is nothing less than  _smug_.

“I suppose you think you’ve won?” Her arched brow is still so much challenge that he bites down on his lower lip to suppress a goofy grin (that still spreads over his face anyway).

The creak of the floor under his boots when he rises up enough to wind an arm around her and nuzzle into the base of her throat. He lifts her enough to knee-walk them further up the bed without having to stop the nips along her jugular (marks he can look at  _tomorrow_ , marks that tell  _everyone_ she is taken, she’s  _his_ ).

“I say it was a  _draw_ , Bugaboo,” he croons against her skin, “you said my  _name_  when you came after all.”

She gaped at him in mock-outrage, “I!” And catches her breath at his playful grin and swishing tail moving back and forth in mirth. “Oh,  _damn_ , I did, didn’t I?”

Next time they sparred, she is going to wipe that  _look_  off his  _face_ , so  _help her._

“You most certainly  _did_ , M’ Lady,” and he nuzzle behind an ear while he blatantly laughs at her. “I didn’t think it would be  _that_  hot to hear you call for Adrien over Chat Noir, but I guess I’ve got some kinks to explore.”

He gets both hands in his hair at that, and her thumbs shamelessly move up until she runs a soft touch at the base of both ears, and  _waits for it_.

His arms give out on him instantaneously, a soft noise torn out of his chest when she just keeps—

Oh good  _God_.

“M-Mari,  _baby_ ,” is soft and low against her collarbone, his hands work in and out of fists, keeping away from her sensitive skin, unable to even  _touch_  her when he’s barely in control like this.

“Here’s the plan, partner,” she leans down to press a kiss in his hair, run her thumbs up the back of his ears, gently rubbing in small circles. His hips twitch against her once, twice, his spine flexing against the black leather. “You? Are going to de-transform, get Plagg  _out of this room_ , and come back here so I can ride you until you forget  _your_ name.”

“Wh-what if I want to fuck you against the wall instead?” he grinds out, eyes fluttering behind the mask.

“What if I want to suck you again before you do?”

“ _Mari_ , Christ, I’m going to  _die_ ,” and the kiss is sloppy between them, deep and desperate, hips undulating against one another.

It takes an  _incredible_  amount of willpower for Chat Noir to pull out of his lady’s hands, but he manages, leaning up with a smooth flex of muscle to stare down at her, naked and glistening wet and  _wanting_  still. All  _his_. His mouth waters again, even with the taste of her on his tongue, and it’s an easy thing to lift his bare hand up enough to lick over the fingers that had been inside her, bringing her  _release_.

His eyes are half-mast when he  _does it_ , watching her watch him.

“You! You are such a terrible,  _tease_ ,” she moans out, and just the smallest of motions, of her hips moving in anticipation, her teeth biting down on her lower lip, of her hands clenching in the bedding under her, all of it makes him purr around the fingers in his mouth.

“I can’t  _help it_  if you’re… _delicious_ , Princess. Worth every  _lick_ ,” and he’s smirking again, tossing a throw over her naked body with a wink.

He stand back a few steps, turns to hold the ring away from the lovely lady waiting on him.

“Claws  _in_ , and don’t even  _think_  about looking.”

He catches his constant companion in his ring hand when the change washes away in a burst of green light, leaving Adrien in the slacks and half-buttoned shirt from earlier in the evening.

“Tell me you have Camembert, Marinette,” the exhausted little God begs in exasperation at his Chosen. “Save me from this idiot and  _feed me_!”

“ _Hey_!”

“Of course I do, Plagg. Go enjoy. Don’t make such a mess this time, please.”

The little God floats up out of Adrien’s palm, pointedly  _not_  facing his Chosen’s other half, “ _see?_  Some people are  _nice_  about it. You could learn a thing or two from your Ladybug.”

Rolling his eyes, Adrien shoos him off to phase down through the floor and probably eat himself into a cheese coma.

But he smiles slowly as he turns back, his eyes just as heavy as Chat Noir’s.

“Now…where exactly were we, m’lady?” He muses softly, teasing.

But Marinette laughs low and holds the coverlet to her naked body, rolls up to her knees on the bed to face him, looking up with dark eyes and pink cheeks. Her hair messily framing her face and the sweet curve of bone below her throat just  _calling_  for his attention, and Adrien groans helplessly, moving back to her like she’s pulling some imaginary string.

“I think,” she drops the blanket to reach out for his shirt, tipping her head back to look at him, “right about here?” It takes her very little effort to  _pull_  and throw those nice buttons all over her room (and  _yes_ , she would eventually find them all and fix it good as new, even if he protests he likes the shirt  _exactly like this_  just to make her blush when someone asks about it.  _Dude, you totally have no buttons on that shirt! It’s all Mari’s fault, Nino, I swear—! Adrien!!_ ).

She uses the ends to pull him in until his knees bump the bed, close enough that she can lean in and run her mouth over him, to map out the muscles jumping in his abdomen with her lips and tongue, to move to that wonderful  _spot_  right against the line where skin met the waist of his pants.

She absolutely  _can’t_  help but run her hands around until she gripping his ass, keeping her wonderful boyfriend, her  _partner,_  right where she wants him.

“Maaari,” but his bare hand is warm against the back of her neck while she licks a strip up his sternum, pressing her bare breasts against his belly. She leans up enough to tease his nipple with a wet lick, rolls her eyes up to watch his mouth go slack.

“Mmm. ‘Worth every lick?’” She leans in to suck him, her eyes darkening when he throws his head back to moan for her.

“Yesss,” Adrien hisses out, dropping his shoulders back to get the damn shirt off so she can work her way up to the base of his throat.

She has to let go long enough to go for his belt since his hands are occupied, cradling her against him so she can make a few marks of her  _own_.

He’s hitting some hard limits when his erection finally springs free and she grips him at the base, starts to work him  _slowly_ , to feel him throb against her palm.

It’s all he can do to pull her off, tilt her face up and lean down for a kiss, hot and fast and bordering on  _feral_.

“Mari,  _Bugaboo_ ,” in between fucking his tongue in her mouth, “you are  _seriously_  going to get it now.”

“Oh?” Her cheeks and throat stained pink with arousal, her breasts rising and falling with each panting breath, her eyes dazed from his kiss. “Am I  _pushing_  too hard,  _mon minou_? Is it too much for you to  _take?_ ”

“You are  _impossibly_  sexy,” he groans out against her mouth, “it’s not  _fair_.”

Her laugh is low and the twinkle in her eye is satisfied mirth while her hands speeds up just a  _little_.

“This from my  _sinfully_  handsome boyfriend? The one with the kindest heart ever?” She quirks a brow, smiling against his mouth.

His thumbs swipe over her pink cheeks, and his  _eyes_  reflect back so  _much_ , so much love and affection, so much heat and  _need_ , so much respect and loyalty, and she takes it in greedily, presses gentle kisses to the corner of his mouth without looking away.

“I’ve got  _nothing_  on you, beautiful. You? Are enough to make me crazy. I could just keep you in bed  _all day_  if you’d let me, make you come over and over.”

She groans at the suggestion, making a mental note that  _yes_ ,  _yes a day off to spend in bed should be a priority._

“I want to come  _now_ , Minou. I want to come with you inside me.” She cackles to herself in yet another victory, pulling away to lean down and swipe her tongue around the head of him, makes a noise at how ready he is, how bringing her pleasure worked him up  _so much_.

“ _God, Mari, you_ —”

_Ha. I’ve got you, haven’t I?_

She’s laughing when he takes them both down to the bed, reverently mouthing at her throat, bracing most his weight on one forearm so he can use his other to fumble his pants off his ankles. She clamps her thighs at his hips, working against his throbbing cock, getting him  _wet_ , making him gasp and twitch and slide over her so sweetly.

Finally  _free_ , Adrien slides his hand up her thigh, finds her again, and starts working his finger back into body.

“Oh! Oh no, no, no, no,” Marinette almost sobs out, wrapping both arms around his back, holding on tight, “I’m ready, I’m  _ready_ , I promise. Adrien! Don’t tease me anymore.”

“Ssshhh, Princess,” and the soft kisses under her chin tickles enough to distract her from the movement, from another finger sliding in to give her  _more_  but just not enough, “need to make sure. Don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m going to  _kill you_ ,” she gasps, her back arching when he rubs against the  _spot_. “I  _swear._ ”

“Oh, you wouldn’t,” and he coos, licking over her jawline, “you’d regret it later.”

“S-sometimes I—!”

“Besides, you come so hard for me when I work you up a little first,” and his fingers speed up, working her body so perfectly, winding her up again. “And those  _noises_  you make? I want as many as I can  _get_.”

Marinette manages to free a hand from her death grip on his shoulders and wiggle it down between them until—

“Fuck,  _oh fuck.”_

“Two…two can play at this game,  _Minou_.”

“So  _wicked_. Have I told you how  _hot_  it is when you have a plan?”

“Have I told you how endearing it is when you give in?”

“Noted.  _Must give in to beautiful girlfriend’s kinky sex games._  See? I occasionally listen,” but it comes out as a desperate groan.

She’s just as breathless, her knees starting to tremble with the pressure building up again, making her so wet, but she needs! Oh  _God, she needs more_.

“Then  _stop teasing!_ ” is almost a sob, her body arching while she keeps working him, tries to move her hips enough to get him  _deeper_.

And it’s  _darker_  when he leans up to talk against her mouth, to stare at her flushed face with those heavy jade eyes. “Then  _say it_  for me, Mari. Tell me what you  _need_.”

“…fuck me,  _Minou_. I need you to fuck me until I come for you.”

It’s desperate and high, punctuated with her teeth sinking into her lower lip, her body getting tight all over again, so close to where he  _wants her_.

And at this juncture, he can read her body’s signals, can tell she’s getting close again, and he has to hide his shameless grin against her breasts where he can lick at her, can suck her whenever he wants.

“I bet you can go again, Bugaboo.”

“I bet I can throw you on the floor and hold you down.”

“Ooh, that is kinky. You know what it does to me when you get all domineering.”

Her hand flexes on his shoulder, her calf winding around the back of his thigh in a very  _familiar_  kind of way. One that promises to do  _exactly_  what she said.

To keep her from throwing him over, Adrien sucks her in again, tonguing around her peaked nipple, gives a few hard, rapid thrusts of his fingers as deep as he can, right against her  _spot_.

“Ah! Oh…. _oh God!”_

He knows he’s won ( _for now_ ) when her hand slides up, fingers in his hair, keeping him pressed down against sweet skin until the edges of his teeth make her shudder.

The throb of her against his fingers is the signal for  _now_.

And Adrien is always aware of how  _careful_  he needs to be at first, of how small she really is behind all that bravery and strength. He knows he’s…well, more than  _average_ , and sometimes going to too fast too soon would make her a little… _sore_  the next day. Even if she laughs it off, gives him tons of kisses, tells him it does feel good to be  _reminded_  of how feral he was the night before, how  _uncontrolled_  he could be, he still can’t help but want to protect her from anything,  _anything_  that could ever hurt her.

( _Even himself_ )

To keep her on edge, he moves to the other breast, to lavish the neglected nipple with attention, pulls his fingers out slowly. He grips himself at the base, slides his thick cock against her, making sure he’s nice and wet.

(And he  _throbs_  against his own palm, thinking how  _wet_  he’s made her, how she’s this out of control for  _him_.)

He gives a moan against her when she finally stops working him, reaches back to grip his ass cheek instead and try pulling him  _in_. His needy Princess trying to make him go  _faster_.

“Easy, baby,” while he finally gives in, groans out when he starts pressing in slowly, so  _slow_ , trying to be so very careful, “let me take care of you.”

Her eyes are blown, mouth wet and parted, hitching breaths and flushed cheeks, “A-Adrien, it’s not—! I need—!”

And she so incredibly beautiful, so helpless against the pleasure he gives her that he can’t help taking her mouth again, hungry for her  _taste_.

Inch by inch he fills her, moving his hips gently, eating down the high noises, groaning when her hands grip him even  _tighter_. She throbs around him so perfectly, so close, her thighs trembling with it, and Adrien smiles against her slack mouth, shifts back just a little, just enough to make her arch beautifully into him.

When he finally thrusts forward, pushes a little harder to open her up, to bury himself all the way down, the tension in her belly  _snaps_ , and she coming again, throwing her head back to cry out with the overwhelming waves of pleasure rising up from her core.

And her body thrums and pulses around him, making Adrien grind his teeth, shift his hips just slightly, to work her through the orgasm with easy, deep thrusts, his cock working her even  _higher_. He mouths against her bared throat, panting and groaning out with how  _tight_  she gets when she comes, but his hips keep up the slow, easy rhythm, never letting her stop for even a  _second_. He can keep her going if he reads her just right, can keep her caught in the cycle of orgasm over and over if he keeps moving at just the perfect  _pace_.

Marinette is fuzzy and dazed with the pleasure, with how good he smells, how addicting his mouth is, his body moving against her, inside her, filling her up in the way she’s come to  _crave_.

“Oh  _God,_  Minouuu,” she whines against his throat, biting down a little so he gives her a hard thrust, just how she  _likes_  it. “It’s so good, you feel  _so good_ —” and can finally tighten her thighs around his hips, pull herself  _up_  to meet the next thrust, and draw a cry out of him.

“You are  _dangerous_ , Mari,” he groans out, finally pulling up out of her hold. Hands on the back of her knees to hold her up and open, putting his body on display for her eyes to rake over, his muscles flexing with each deeper, harder thrust. His eyes darken, sliding over her like a touch, from the indents in her hips to her trembling breasts to her hands caught hopelessly in the bedding, panting and moaning with her mouth open and wet from his kiss.

“I—” she starts but catches on a cry when he picks up the rhythm, moving more and  _more_  inside her hot, wet, tightness, “I should be the one saying that! You make me insane, A-Adrien Agreste!”

And he throws back his head to laugh without stopping, without a pause to his fingers tenderly massaging the trembling knees, without a hitch to the long, filling thrusts.

His eyes are twinkling with mirth and lust and need all wrapped up, his grin boyishly handsome and so very,  _very_  sexy. “Then I suppose you’ll have to keep me, m’lady. Make sure I don’t cause trouble to anyone but  _you_.”

An idea sparks and she perks up a little regardless of the constant pleasure pulling at her from so many directions. She gives herself so many  _points_  for even being able to  _think_ right now, “oh, I can handle  _your_  type of trouble, Monsieur. Quite  _easily_ , in fact.”

He arches a brow, shamelessly grinning wide and white, still moving and taking, still making her body coil in pleasurable shocks.

Which is how she takes him by surprise, to grip his hip with her leg, and  _throw_  them over.

Adrien’s sharp cry is shocked when he lands on his back in her bed, the world spinning around until his beautiful lady is straddling his hips and grinning down at him with smug  _satisfaction_.

 _Gotcha, Minou_.

His body arches under her when she rises, thighs and knees working, drawing him slowly out, his chest stuttering with breath when she sinks back down, taking him in to the  _root_.

Her hands are warm and playful, gliding over him, moving over his trembling abdomen, up his sensitive sides, thumbs playing with the hard nubs of his nipples, circling them in just the right way to make his head thrash back and forth.

“Mari,” is a desperate half-groan, “ _Mari_ , baby, sweetheart,  _amour_.”

“Such a  _tease_ , Minou.” And she fervently thanks Alya for all those Zumba sessions recently because she shimmies her hips side-to-side, grinding down on him, making him arch under her, helplessly starting to thrust his hips up. “You need to be  _punished_  sometimes, don’t you?”

And his hands smooth up her thighs, to grip her hips and wrap those long fingers around to  _hold on_  (just like he did when they were in the masks, when he pulled her close, protected her, took  _hits_  for her; just like when they were out eating dinner or at a club with Nino and Alya, dancing in gentle, swaying movements, doing nothing any more spectacular than sharing warmth and affection in the space between them).

“I love when you lead me around by the collar, m’lady,” is a low purr from Adrien’s throat while he braces himself, gets  _ready_ for it.

She laughs over him, tweaking his nipples in punishment, and her hips roll smoothly, easily taking him in, finding the sweet spot inside her body to work his throbbing cock.

“You do take  _direction_  so well when you  _want_ , don’t you,  _ma moiti_ é?” And since she really just can’t  _help_  herself, she runs just the pad of her finger up his throat slowly, sensually, lightly scratching under his chin. She smirks when he moves with it, chin rising to bare his throat for more. His eyes are cracked open while the moan rises up and spills out, turns into something deeper when her fingers stroke over him and she sinks down to sit on his hips.

She licks her lips watching him, steadies herself to get  _comfortable_. She slowly starts working him using the, um,  _other_  exercises.

When her inner muscles flutter against him, tighten and release, milk him so  _deep_  inside, Adrien arches and strains, cries out for her, hips twitching and hands tightening  _down_  to hold her right there, right where he  _needs_  her so, so much.

(Some  _sane_  part of his brain is telling him it’s too tight, to ease up, but he just  _can’t_. He’ll be upset about the bruises later, but now,  _now_ , he needs her to stay  _right here_ , right where they belong together, joined  _just like this_.)

He’s a panting mess, red down his throat and chest, pupils blown in pleasure, and when his hands become  _inescapable_ , Marinette arches up to push her breasts out, bites down on her lower lip and works her muscles around him, stroking him inside where he fills her so completely, so…

 _Perfectly_.

“Maaaari, baby,  _God_ ,  _fuck_!” His hips try to work under her, try to thrust just a  _little_ , give him some friction in the powerful pull of her body.

She throws her head back so he can’t see her smiling, knows she’s pushing him to his  _extents_ , and exploiting his weaknesses until he finally gets a bit… _feral_.

( _Come out to play with me, kitty._ )  

“You feel so  _good_ , Adrien,  _amour_ , you make me so  _wet_  when all I can think about is  _this_. You fill me so  _full_ , I can barely  _breathe_.” She gasps, makes herself tighten down.

The purr in his chest is more than a little growl, his hands finally letting up enough to slide up, up,  _up_ , over the smooth span of skin until he can cup her in both hands, knead her, circle his thumbs over her sweet nipples.

The bed trembles under them and their passions, squeaks when she rises up just a little, just enough that he can finally use some leverage to draw his hips back and fuck up into her, fast and  _hard_.

“ _Yes_ ,” the immediate pleasure slamming into her belly, making her breathless, making her thighs tremble against the cut of his hips, all of it makes her thoughts go blissfully blank. “Oh  _God_ ,  _yes, yes_. Just like  _that_.”

And that wonderful growling  _purr_  again, making a shudder work its way up her spine, making her get enough wherewithal to look down at her lover’s face. His upper lip curled off his teeth, eyes completely  _focused_ and intent.

She might get a breath, a heartbeat, a slide of his hands back down to her hips, and her body tingles in  _anticipation_.

“Hold on,  _Princess_ ,” is the only warning she gets when his hips draw back to pull languishly half-way out, hands holding her  _still_. “I’m going to be  _bad_.”

Marinette moans before he even  _moves_ , already desperate for what’s about to happen.

The first snap of his hips is enough to rip a gasp out of her throat, her mouth dropping open, and a high, needy, “ _Adrien!”_  to encourage more,  _please_   _more_.

And he gives her exactly that, his body moving smooth and powerfully under her thighs, feet braced so he can drive into her faster and harder over and  _over_.

It’s so good, so furious, giving her  _toomuchmoremoremore_. Her hands are braced on his shoulders, arms shaking from the tightening tension all over again, from the next orgasm he’s driving her toward. And all she can do is stare down at him while the noises are pulled, pushed, wrung from her with the strength in his hands moving her, the powerful thrusts, the intensity in his eyes when he has nothing more on his mind than fucking her until she comes.

“Adrien,  _Adrien_ —!” Is almost a scream because she’s so close again, her body winding up tighter and tighter with each hard thrust inside.

“Yesss,” Chat Noir’s deep, sinful growl out of his mouth is  _exactly_ where she wants him, on the edge of his control, “just like that. You’re going to come on my cock, baby.”

There’s no possible way to resist him, and Marinette’s hits her peak hard enough for her vision to go  _white_. The consistent throb in her belly finally  _explodes_ , becomes all-encompassing, spreading pleasure through her whole body until her eyes are wet and she’s helplessly keening while he fucks her hard through it. Her arms finally give out and she falls down on his chest, sobbing and completely overwhelmed.

The hard throbbing of her warm,  _slick_ , body is his complete undoing, and Adrien can only wrap both arm around her back, hold her close, as close as he  _can_ , hips losing the rhythm when her orgasm milks him so sweetly, brings him to the last vestiges of sanity.

“So beautiful, so  _good_ , Mari” is the last fleeting thought while his whole body strains toward completion.

“C-Come in me,  _Minou_. I need to feel you come,” is completely wrecked and hoarse from screaming, from the things he  _does_  to her.

And Adrien stares down at her softly dazed eyes when his body finally gives in to her and he’s gasping, panting, crying out, tightening his arms down to hold her while he obeys, the tingling, tight pressure giving way to all-encompassing pleasure only her body can give him.

The hazy afterglow is riding out the vestiges still throbbing through them, shifting hips for the last bit of friction, racing hearts, and hands weakly stroking sweaty skin. It shifts into softly exchanged kisses and hoarse praises, light teasing, and several terribly timed puns.

When Marinette feels brave enough to attempt gravity, she doesn’t miss how fast Adrien sits up to steady her so she doesn’t list to one side.

She cleans up in her bathroom and wraps a robe around herself, wrings out a towel to come back to him, and make soft eyes down at his sated figure stretched out in her bed while she runs the warm wet over his balls and up his shaft, taking away the sweat from his belly and up to his chest, patting around the base of his throat while he stares up at her with soft, dreamy eyes and that endearingly goofy smile.

(And she knows this is just one of those silly things he keeps track of. The next time, he’s going to be the one staggering to the bathroom, returning to gently clean her inner thighs and her sated sex, to wipe the sweat away from her belly and breasts while his mouth presses tender kisses along her shoulder.)

His drawer in her bureau has a few pairs of sleep pants and worn t-shirts, the most comfortable thing he’s worn all day. She laughs while bringing the t-shirt over his head and the poof of messy blonde hair bristling just like her feline partner. She bringing the pants up his long legs, fingers tickling over the bend in his knees to make him wiggle and huff out a laugh, taps a hip so he raises up enough to pull them over the indents. She’s just about to get her own pajamas when the grumble from his belly makes her pause.

“Oh…um,  _sorry_.”

But  _nope_. They’ve  _talked_  about this. More than  _once_.

“What did you even eat today?” And her tone is no-nonsense, her eyes zeroing in on his sudden blush of embarrassment.

“I just got… _busy_.”

She purses her lips together, throwing on a tank top and comfy pants.

“I’m okay, really, Bugaboo. I just want to cuddle with my—”

“ _After_  you  _eat_ ,” she demands, standing over him lying tiredly among her purple sheets.

Adrien closes his eyes with a tired smile, “you take such good care of your strays, Mari.”

For that, he gets a kiss to his disheveled hair and she orders him not to even  _think_  about moving.

(The implied  _or else_  is actually pretty terrifying.)

She quickly goes to the kitchen and starts making a sandwich stacked high with meats and cheese, pausing long enough to scoop up the sleeping Plagg and nestle him down in a soft, clean dish towel.

(He only ate part of her stock, so he  _is_  getting better.)

She takes just enough time to cut some fresh fruit for the side. And just as a little shameless  _persuasion_ , she pulls a sealed bag full of her homemade macaroons from the shelf to make sure he has the motivation to eat everything.

With bleary eyes, Adrien is close to drooping, the long day wearing on him while something plays on the television at the foot of her bed.

She blatantly makes him sit up enough to slide in behind him, pull him back enough so his head is just under her chin, and she can feel the vibrations through his back when he takes a bite and  _mmms_.

He devours the plate while they watch silly television and talk during the shows, lets his head loll back on her shoulder to kiss her throat when she puts the macaroons on the empty plate.

His mouth has hints of raspberry in the next kiss.

It’s close to midnight when they’re finally snuggled down in her bed together, wrapped easily and comfortable around one another, riding the edges of sleep.

Marinette sighs happily, running her fingers through his hair gently, used to the weight of his body pinning her down, the soft touch of his breath against her throat.

Tomorrow, he’ll have started coffee and breakfast, the smell waking her up in just the right way. They’ll eat and banter, make plans for the coming night’s patrol. They’ll shower in her small bathroom, wiggle and laugh and maneuver around each other, washing hard-to-reach spots and working shampoo, throwing suds all over the place.

And she knows he’ll drop to a knee with water hitting her back, pull her close so he can see the finger-shaped bruises on her hips and kiss them gently before looking up at her with those  _eyes_.

There might be time for gentle lovemaking before class and work. There might be time for a tickle war before they have to be Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng. There might be time for a little sparring practice before the night falls on Paris and they have to be Ladybug and Chat Noir.

And, Adrien thinks while he’s on his way to his next appointment, ready to negotiate the contract further, that there might be  _time_. Before nightfall, before  _Claws Out_ , before meeting at the Eiffel Tower, before fighting the good fight. Time to dig in the back of his drawer, past the expensive watches and hand-sewn handkerchiefs, to the small, ornate box in the back.

There might be time to catch his  _breath_  before they hit the next roof top. There might be time to grip her hand, to stare down at those eyes. Time to drop down to one knee and open the it so she can  _see_  how carefully he chose the  _perfect one_ , and beg her to put up with his shenanigans for the rest of their lives. There might be time to tell her how much he wants her always by his side.

There might be time for tears and trembling knees, for her to gasp out, “Chat! … _Adrien_ ,  _ma amour_ ,  _yes_. Yes, yes, yes…” and the sweetest of kisses painted with happy tears.

…or there might be time to break his heart with something like, “Things aren’t fine as they are?” or “We’re still  _young_  yet, and…”

Back in his loft, standing alone in his bedroom, his pulse pounds coppery in the back of his mouth while he stares down at it. There’s butterflies in his lower belly that has  _nothing_  to do with the trouble they might get into tonight, and Plagg, in a genuine show of solidarity, sits firmly on his shoulder, patting absently with one paw while he talks on.

“—in the  _bag_ , see? That girl? Aside from being one of the best humans  _I’ve_  ever met, is  _crazy_  about you. Anyone can see it, so you, my friend, are worried about  _nothing_.”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, just looks up at the mirror over his bureau at the two of them and the very crucial step laying in the palm of his hand.  But Plagg’s expression remains fixed, firm.

“You can  _do_  this, Adrien. Whatever happens, I’m with you.”

And he inhales once, a deep, cleansing breath. “Okay…. _okay_. Whatever happens, buddy. We’ll deal with it.”

“That’s the spirit! Besides, I’m  _telling you_ , she’s going to say yes. No Ladybug can resist her Chat Noir.” The small elbow nudging him makes some of the tension ease out of his back and shoulders, the laugh already making him feel better about his chances.

“Hey, we made a deal. Whatever happens in the suit  _didn’t really happen_ , right?”

“Absolutely. Your gross human mating rituals aren’t a good topic of conversation anyway.”

“Mmhm. We’re just going to stick with that.”

“And  _you’re_  stalling.” The little god zips off his shoulder, comes to float face-to-face with his uncertain companion. “the two of you? You’re  _meant_ to be. Stop worrying and let’s get on with it already.”

He casts one last look at the box in his hand with the smirk quirking his mouth. “You’re right, buddy, enough stalling,” because in his heart of hearts, he  _knows_ …she’s going to say yes.

"Claws  _out!"_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop me a comment ;) Thanks for checking out the sin bin


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